A Gay Old Time!
by Featherstorm27
Summary: The Kalos Elite Four and their Champion go out for dinner to strengthen their 'family' bond and just enjoy each other's company in general. Things get mildly out of hand, however, when they hit a gay club afterwards. (warnings: yaoi, yuri, and puns. If your cool with all these, then give it a read! Thanks, and enjoy!)
1. Chapter 1

A Gay Old Time!

Chapter 1- He's pretty SieBOLD to do that

**A/N- Not much to say about this fic. Just a funny little adventure starring our favorite Kalos region elites and champion! Also, you have been warned now, there is yaoi and yuri in this fic. In fact, there's so much gay, your eyes might bleed as you read this. I know. Mine have.**

"Hey, hey, heyaaaa!" An obnoxiously bombastic voice greeted from the other side of the room into a Holo Caster. They could faintly hear her conversation. Something about a child wondering if she could challenge the League. 

"Uh...nope, sorry kiddo, we have League matters to handle. Important, big-girl shit. Closed for the night." Malva furrowed her brows and crossed her arms as she listened intently to the voice on the Caster. "...Uh...oh tomorrow at ten? Yea, sure you can challenge us then, just prepare to get burned...what? Yea, yea, appointment set...alright, have a good night kiddo." She conversed briefly, shutting off the living room Holo Caster. On the other side of the room, Diantha fumed. She couldn't believe how formal Malva WASN'T being.

"Alright guys, when's Adonis gonna get his shit together?" Malva asked, sliding onto the couch next to Drasna. The dragon specialist looked to have almost toppled over in surprise. "How long has it been already, an hour?"

Drasna shrugged. "Probably, dear. Most likely less tho-"

The fiery news-woman rolled her eyes. "Oh sweet ARCEUS; what is he, a GIRL-?"

A powerful voice suddenly boomed from outside the living room. "Douse thy flames and fiery passions, fellow Elite! The calm of this celebratory, good-spirited night need not be sullied by such an attitude!"

Drasna giggled; Malva scoffed. "Or by his tardiness!" the latter woman growled.

Wikstrom frowned; she did have a point. But nonetheless, "Though that may be true, I do doubt verily a problem shall arise simply due to his want of celerity!"

"Yea, but-"

Diantha shook her head; there wasn't a need for all this quarrel on their special night, of all things! "No, Wikstrom is right, Malva. Put yourself in his shoes. I'm sure he's just trying to look his best in honor of our dinner. And as such, shouldn't you be honored by such a gesture as well? It shows he considers you- and all of us- worthy enough to impress and look nice for." Diantha concluded.

Malva tilted her head side to side in consideration, then nodded reluctantly. "Well, if you put it that way, MOM, I guess it is pretty noble. But waiting really steams me off, and I'm getting seriously hungry."

Drasna nodded. "Yes, dear, I have to agree- though no ill will to you in saying so, Diantha dear."

Diantha gave the older woman her warm, winning smile. "No, it's fine; I understand how much of an appetite you have."

"Verily so- the appetite of a draconian beast, one might presume!" Wikstrom added in jest, taking a seat on the far end of the couch where Diantha was sitting.

Drasna burst out laughing. "Oh my goodness, you two are such cards! But even then, I could probably devour a charred knight and his melting armor to boot!"

Wikstrom blinked. "...Correct, art thou? On...such an account, I shall hasten my departure, anon..." He joked, pretending to get up and dash off.

The two young women laughed it up, and the dragon-training elite continued. "Oh sure, hurry on, then! I'll just watch you wobble away at literally 2 miles per hour in your 100-pound set of mail."

The knight pouted, grumbling that it was only 67 pounds while the two other women were in an uproar. Defeated, he returned to the couch and put his head in his hands dramatically. "Curses! 'Tis such a veritable shame to accept defeat from a villain!" He bemoaned, causing Drasna to chuckle ominously like a witch. After the little joke died down, the room stood silent. Malva directed her gaze toward Wikstrom after a while.

"So where were you, then?" She asked, rather bitingly.

The man in question cocked his head to the side. "I do beg thy pardon?"

"We were waiting on you, too. You walked in no more than two minutes ago, man. What were you doing beforehand?" She laid her back against the couch cushions, sinking in slightly.

"Hmm...nosier than a Probopass, do I say! Well...seeing as though thine interest is invested in such a curiosity, I was simply wrestling the car keys from a certain...lock-resolving-device kleptomaniac of mine."

Once Malva caught his drift, she exploded in haughty laughter. The other two smirked. "Ha, your Klefki? Woooooooow, man, that's just great! How did it steal them in the first place?"

"Do I not hesitate to suspect that the sneaky elf discovered them upon my very desk! The scoundrel!" He spat out, clenching his fists. "In a heartbeat would I have his head-...though it seems his whole body is one." The steel-specialist mused.

"And you wouldn't hurt your poor little Pokemon, now would you dearie?" Drasna asked, almost motherly.

Wikstrom sighed. "True art thou, my fellow Elite! I must check my passions..." He mumbled to himself.

With that, another awkward silence followed, everyone anticipating the arrival of a certain chef. Minute after clock-ticking minute passed.

Diantha succumbed to breaking the quiet. "Well...we have been waiting quite a while, huh?"

"Yea, what tipped you off, sweetie?" Malva asked caustically.

The champion huffed, ignoring her. "Hmm...I hate to be the one to say it but...someone really needs to inform Siebold of our predicament."

"...Or just to hurry his ass up." The fiery trainer grumbled.

Diantha shot her a glare of daggers. "Yes...but less blunt. Any volunteers?"

Everyone stood silent. Telling the Water-type specialist what to do was like pulling teeth, and having him bite you before you can even try. The young man could be very bitter when provoked, even resorting to yelling at an unwitting soul to make them leave him alone. Thus oftentimes, he would be left to his own devices.

Yet now he was taking matters too far, and his time-monopolizing tyranny must be stopped. "Heh. No one's gonna brave the wrath of the storm, eh?" Malva taunted.

Drasna grinned. "Keep in mind that 'no one' includes you, dear."

The Team Flare member glared at her through slitted eyes and glaring glasses. After grumbling to herself, she quickly thought up an idea. "Hey, wait! Here's a thought! Why don't we play a game of chance to decide who gets the...unlucky job."

Diantha frowned. "As long as said game has nothing to do with pyrotechnics like last time, then sure." The other two elites nodded in agreement.

"No, this will be waaay tamer." Malva promised and quickly snatched one of Drasna's fang earrings from her ear. She placed it on the floor. "Alright, let's play spin the bottle...Er, dragon tooth. Whoever the point points to is the winner!" She exclaimed.

"What-hey! Please give that back-"

"How absurd! Might such a curvature cause only ambiguity?" Wikstrom interrupted.

"Got a better idea?" Wikstrom sighed and lowered his gaze to the ground pensively. "No? Alright!" Malva span the tooth enthusiastically. It went on for quite a long time, building suspense. After six seconds it finally slowed to a stop, sinking its point into a certain knight's steel-plated armor.

"Damnit." Wikstrom hissed under his breath. Malva clapped boisterously for him.

"WOOOOOHOOOO, looks like you get the GOLD, baby! Go upstairs and claim your prize!"

"For the love of Arceus, Palkia, Dialga, and even GIRATINA, Malva, calm your sarcastic TITS!" Diantha roared at the villain. Wikstrom sighed and began his way to certain doom, and out of the living room. He could hear the champion apologize for her outrage, and Malva laugh heartily at her dramatic tirade, saying how utterly hilarious it was.

But the noise was drowned out by the knight's worry. He ascended each gruesome step with trepidation for the scene to come.

His hardened, steel armor could endure many things. Swords, spears, lances, javelins, cutlasses, claws, talons- what have you. It could even bear the sour remarks and verbal assaults of foes and comrades alike. Yet there was one weapon which could tear it apart as if it were nothing but paper.

It's not as if he were afraid of his fellow Elite. That was far from the case! In truth, Wikstrom wouldn't, couldn't, deny his outright affection for the young man. His beauty, his ethics, his pride, his enigmatic apathy drew the knight to him like faces of commoners to the stunning Diantha. At a first glance, he was no more than some artsy youngster. Yet once Wikstrom could break though his shell and see him for the wonderful, dynamic, and strapping creature he was, the older man was captivated, imprisoned by love's binding fetters. But male? A sinful crush, indeed; but Wikstrom had long since overcome his traditionalism in search for true happiness. Now, he desperately yearned for Siebold to reciprocate his feelings. Unfortunately, he knew not of how to approach the water-type trainer, let alone of which way the younger man swung.

With wavering feet as his inept aid, Wikstrom ascended the flight of stairs, and began his intimidating trek down the long hallway toward Siebold's room. Fear and regret pervaded his mind along the way, yet even that couldn't halt the man of steel. He had a task to uphold, a promise which shouldn't be broken, lest his attested chivalry be slandered.

True, his armor could brave many offenses, many foes. Yet Siebold's imminent hatred of him could easily pierce through his formidable mail, and slice through his mortal, vulnerable heart.

Wikstrom ceased his step at the door. He breathed deeply, but before he could even place a calloused finger on the knob (or possibly turn back with his tail between his legs), a voice sounded from within. "Come in." It droned, and the knight cursed to himself. His boots must've been a dead giveaway.

Slowly, the knight's hand took control and opened the door. He steeled himself for the worst, and put up a more confident facade. "Greetings, my friend." He began, but his voice went dry at the sight of the younger male shirtless.

"Hello, Wikstrom, what's the problem-oh...I'm keeping you all, aren't I?" Siebold guessed. "My apologies."

When the knight got his voice back, he replied. "N-no, friend, worry not! 'Tis quite alright!" He ripped his eyes from the beauteous sight (toned and lean, fair porcelain-white skin, yet sporting a bit of a chef's belly), feeling incredibly lewd. "T-take thy time!" He mumbled, almost breaking his neck to hide his red cheeks.

Good thing Siebold was distracted, and hadn't even noticed Wikstrom's admirations. His eyes darted to and fro between two different shirts. Out of the deep blue, he expressed his thoughts. "Oh my...what should I wear? I've narrowed my choices down to two, yet...both would look so nice on me! And both would match nicely with my jeans..."

The latter statement pulled the steel-type master back to his fellow elite; he hadn't even noticed what pants he was wearing. The thought amused him and he- OH ARCEUS LOOK AT THAT ASS. His succulent, rounded posterior was simply a sight for sore eyes in his tight, cerulean blue, cut skinny jeans. And his thighs and calves were just so...PERFECT- was that a tent pitching in Wikstrom's pants or was a Pokemon released? Oh Arceus-dammit, why did his love interest have to be so gorgeous?!

"Can you stop staring into space and just help me out here?!" The younger man demanded, then in a calmer tone. "I thought you were trying to hasten my departure; isn't that why you came here?"

Wikstrom was taken aback. He forgot how volatile Siebold's emotions could be. "Um...yes of course, dear chef! 'Tis only my duty to help a friend!" He bellowed with a slight hint of nervousness, but Siebold didn't catch it and just rolled his eyes.

"Alright, then, you know of my dilemma! Which top do you think I should wear?"

Wikstrom looked over at the two shirts, and pondered the inquiry. After a few seconds of deciding that Siebold would probably look just as handsome in either, the knight shrugged. "That I cannot decide. My apologies, fellow elite, I am a man- ha...and as such I don whatever suitable garments I might find."

Wikstrom, chuckling, found the remark quite humorous, but Siebold only fumed. "Bah! You sexist ass, you can't just denounce me of my manhood because I want to wear the right shirt!" He clenched his fists.

"N-no, wait Siebold, thy conclusion on my jesting is misguided-"

"Whatever, I don't want to hear it, just pick one for me!" He growled, and the frown marring his face took stabs at Wikstrom's heavy heart.

"Erm...mine apologies again, dear friend. How doth the monochromatic blue garment thither suit thee?"

Wikstrom was pointing towards a button-down shirt with two pockets on either chest and rolled up, upper-arm length sleeves. A light blue to dark blue gradient flowed along it like a wave. Siebold stared at it intently a while more, then shook his head. "No...I love it but...that won't do! Don't..." He sighed, and looked towards Wikstrom with those deep, ocean blue eyes that melted his heart. "Look, don't get me wrong or think me shallow, but...the only reason..." He sighed again, cutting himself off to think. "Don't tell anyone else either, please. The only reason I'm trying to look nice is because...well in addition to respecting our formal family outing, I'm trying to...erm...get someone's attention."

Wikstrom's eyes lit up. Could he possibly mean...

"A friend of mine, yea." Wikstrom just about jumped for joy. Perhaps the water-training elite was referring to him but beating around the bush? "I heard that he was coming to dine at the place we're about to head to and...oh screw it. You'd never understand." Or...maybe not.

Nevertheless, "Oh? Elaborate, lad."

The blond rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue. "Why would I bother...just...ugh. You probably don't even get what it means to gay."

Wikstrom was practically dancing on the inside. That made him one step closer to his beloved.

"Tch...I bet you were raised to eat, shit, and breathe that 'marry a good woman and have beautiful children' philosophy." Siebold criticized in a mocking tone of voice. "That's not even artful. So plebeian, so binding. Marriage. You wouldn't even understand what it means to have a tentative relationship or live a life composed of fleeting moments of passion with new, exciting lovers every night..."

Wikstrom huffed. He loved the younger man to death, but when he was in one of his philosophical, new-age rants he could be very close-minded and thoughtless. A con, sure, but...the steel elite could not stop staring into those beautiful pools of indigo blue...

"...and to have to dance and stumble on the edge of what's accepted in the eyes of others, plunged into a taboo lifestyle that you are forced to live in because anything else would not be YOU. You can't be straight, or bisexual, or stop liking your own sex in general because-"

"Soft now, young lad. Further explanation is needed not. I fathom fully what thou art struggling to convey."

Siebold furrowed his brows. "Wait...what? You do?"

"Although agree I cannot withal, aye, I do. 'Twas not kind of thee to assume my sexuality, as well."

Now Siebold was shocked. "You're...I...what? Don't tell me YOU are..."

The knight nodded.

"You're kidding. That's a joke."

"Jest I surely do not. Such an act would be a rarity in regards to a concern so pressing." And pressing it was, indeed. Was Wikstrom actually homosexual? He was gay for Siebold, true, but would other men arouse him the same way? Sexuality was hardly ever a thought that passed his mind. Up until the past couple of years, the idea of marrying a woman and extending his family line was simply that: an idea. Not a goal to live for, nothing he was enthusiastic about, just something his parents demanded he do. He never gave it much heed.

Siebold shook his head. "The day I believe you're gay is the day Tepigs fly. Anyways...I can't wear the blue shirt because that's so predictable! I'm a water-type guy, so of course I would wear blue! How boring. But this one-" the blond elite pointed to his alternative choice, a smooth violet shirt with a thin matching purple scarf and another white, buttoned shirt to go over it. "I think it would look really snazzy. Purple really pops out against my pasty skin-"

"Pasty is scarcely a suitable descriptor, sir Siebold. Thy skin is so fair and bright- almost to the likeness of a sparkling, vibrant field of virgin snow, or the glowing radiance of a full moon in a drowsy night sky- yet thou posses a complexion far more stunning." Wow. Seems he was a poet and didn't even know it. "I pray, I implore thee, heed my counsel. The white over-wear would simply blend with thy skin; verily a bore to wandering eyes. And the violet undershirt is attractive, yet clashes with thy shining indigo orbs. They shall seem black and dull rather than blue and vivacious as I view them now. However, thou shalt find appeal and comfort in the blue. The darker tones shall contrast, and thus emphasize, thy pale, lunar complexion, whereas those lighter hues shall compliment them. The deep navy of thine eyes shall find solace in the presence of the darker gradients. And- dare I muse- thy shirt shall fit snugly against thy breast..."

"Okay okay, I get it! And...breast? Wow you are some kind weird, Wikstrom. But..." He sighed, sifting through all the information presented to him. "I suppose I see your point...and the evidence that you're actually pretty gay."

The knight chuckled. Siebold continued, mumbling to himself. "And, wow, I didn't even know how artful you could be. Some 'man' you are." He joked.

"Hah...mine apologies. Mayhap I acquired said 'artful'ness from thee?"

Siebold shrugged. As Wikstrom grew more and more fond of the blond, they spent more time together talking and forging a friendship. "Perhaps. And perhaps I should wear the blue top...alright you've convinced me. Now, shoo," he said sassily, swatting his hand in the knight's direction. "Go inform the others that I shall meet with them very soon."

"Aye, that I shall." The older elite promised. He made his way back to the door, and turned the knob to walk out. "But anon- be prompt this time, lad. 'Tis not a pretty sight: Malva erupting in the manner of a vicious volcano."

Siebold giggled. It was a euphonious sound to Wikstrom as he hurried downstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

A Gay Old Time!

Chapter 2: It Gets REELY Gay

**A/N: And thus, the introduction of the song which inspired me to write this whole fanfiction series! WOW! Who ever thought it would've been THAT song?! HA HA HA *gets a gun.***

**And speaking of songs, are any of you lovely readers Game Grump lovelies and/or Ninja Sex Party fans? If so, wouldn't it just be knee-slapping hilarious if there was a Pokémon crossover with Danny's song "Dragon Slayer"? Just imagine Wikstrom as knight Danny, Koga as Ninja Brian, Drasna as Egoraptor/the dragon, and Siebold as the pink-haired girl Danny tries to court. I swear, just listen to that song again and imagine those guys in it. Fucking great.**

**(Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon or any of its characters and I don't own Katy Perry's song "Roar.")****  
**  
"Tch. Well princess better hurry his ass up! How long does it take him to put on a damn shirt?" Malva growled, watching the rest of the elites do their final preparations.

Wikstrom was waiting by the door, swinging his jingling car keys with one finger. He shrugged. Diantha, who was checking her phone and grabbing her purse, retorted. "As long as it takes you to blab about shit on the news."

"WHAT? Excuse me, but my-"

"Hey, hey, easy now, girls. This is our special night remember?" Drasna warned. "Only smiles now, dearies."

The actress sighed. "Oops, my bad! I don't know what came over me. But yes, this should indeed be a quarrel-free evening where we honor our friendships together as elites and celebrate the fact that we've held our distinguished titles as such for so many years now!" She gushed, having put her phone away to clasp her hands in delight. "Oh man, I'm so glad to work with you guys! You're always so enthusiastic and fight so well- I'm proud of you all!"

Drasna smiled. "Yes I agree! It has been a pleasure working with you all!"

Malva reluctantly nodded, grinning involuntarily at Diantha's jubilee. "Yea. Although we have our ups and downs, it is really nothing but smiles with you guys."

"Oh I do concur wholeheartedly, fair maidens! My heart twists and writhes in many contortions of gleeful ecstasy whilst I am battling with my wonderful Pokémon or fulfilling my duties as an elite, and even doubly so when I am spending time with thee: my splendid friends and coworkers! Thy presence sparks life into even the dullest of days-" he swiftly pulled out his trusty sword, which remained by his side always- as he was a true knight- from his belt. Steel slid against his scabbard, producing a smooth slicing sound. "So may our bonds grow ever strong to rival the density and cohesiveness of even steel! Excelsior!"

As the girls couldn't help but to laugh at the man's long-winded but kindly speech, Malva noticed wispy, air-thin ribbons wrap delicately around Wikstrom's arm. "Hah! Looks like your prankster Pokémon strike again, sir knight!"

"W-wait, I do beg your pard-OH GOODNESS!" He ripped Aegislash off of his arm and dropped it on the floor, creating a dull clatter. "Sweet Arceus, Aegislash, doth thou not have thine own scabbard?!"

The sneaky apparition hissed out a giggle and nodded, taking it out. While Wikstrom was beginning to question where his actual sword went, the wry Pokémon slowly by surely yanked it out of its own scabbard. Wikstrom gasped. "How in Giratina's distortion world didst thou fit TWO swords in my scabbard, including thyself?!"

"A sword, Wikstrom. You're arguing with a sword." Malva droned, causing Diantha and Aegislash to snicker. Drasna fiddled with her fang earrings, smiling to herself.

"Hmm...quite, this is rather asinine." He said as he tried to snatch his ancient family blade from the cackling ghost, which teased him by pulling it away each time. "Dammit-wilt thou kindly return my blade, I beg!" He growled, and with one faithful swipe he grabbed the hilt and returned his sword to its scabbard. He then grabbed his pokeball and returned his other sword to its rightful place as well.

A voice sounded casually from behind. "I love how our Pokémon are so mellow while yours are literally the world's most infamous tricksters."

Everyone's heads swiveled towards Siebold's direction. Malva responded faster and more scathingly than the others. "Oh, thank Arceus and Xerneas, you're finally here! Now let's get our asses some dinner, I'm hungry as a motherfucker." She announced unceremoniously and pushed Wikstrom out of the way. As she opened the door, the knight, aghast, shot her a face of complete and utter shock. As he was questioning why they would be feeding donkeys or what the diet of an adulterous matri-sexual would be, the rest of them walked out the door. Drasna patted him on the shoulder. "Don't ask, dearie."

~~~

"I used ta bite my tongue an' hol' my breath- 'ey guys, ya ever thought-a how awful dis song is?" An obnoxiously hyped voice ravaged the sanctity of the car, heightened by alcohol. Their Elite "family" dinner at a small restaurant in Lumiose was a hit, and afterwards, feeling the night was still young, the five made their way to a popular night club nearby, which they were now leaving.

Diantha shook her head, and faced her from the passenger seat. "I dunno, Mal, I sorta like this song. It's cute and motivational." She replied. The champion may or may not have been a little drunk herself.

"Blech! I hate Katy Berry. She's waaaaaay too provocative for my tastes."

"Hah! Says the pyromaniac who's drunk as a Stunky and just flirted with at least a million men tonight." A certain water-type elite mocked.

Malva shot him a glare to rival a Seviper's. "HEY, NO. Get off your high Ponyta, I am a dishtinguished newscaster! And explosions are DA BOMB, beeyitch!"

"Oh my Arceus, I've never heard of a better pun than that!" He retorted in his typically sassy tone.

"'Ey get offa my ass, blondie. I'm drunk and iz like two AM in the mornin' gimme a wave-break."

The chef blinked. "It's only midnight. And that pun...was actually pretty good."

"...You're only sayin' dat 'cuz its water-bassed." Malva doubled.

"What- no, I...wait a second...okay I take that back. Malva is now the queen of puns, everyone."

Drasna and Diantha sarcastically clapped for her, while Wikstrom, occupied by his driving, mouthed a quick "congratulations, when's the coronation?"

Malva nodded, bowing as much as she could in her sitting position. "Oh, queen? Damn STRAIGHT, my rightful title- where's my crown?"

"Up your ass." Whispered a faint voice.

Malva, who caught the insult, gasped loudly as if trying to inhale all the air in the car. "WHUT? DRASNA, AN INSULT? Remind me NEVA to getcha too dronk again."

"Oh hush, dearie, I'm not a saint."

"And the kind old lady facade crumbles." Siebold pitched in. Malva, derailed, kept on drunkenly singing the allegedly 'awful' song. "I've got the eye of arcanine, a fighter, dancing through the fire...and Diantha's the champion...even though she's reaaaally baa-ad.." The sun-haired actress shot the newscaster a petrifying glare.

"...Ugh." Drasna continued after the younger woman's little scene. "You blasted youngsters, all you think about when you see a slightly gray-haired woman is how gosh darn old she is! It's not like I'm eighty, dammit!"

Diantha chuckled. "Yea, we could tell by the way you were owning the dance floor like some crazed cougar."

"WHAT! I'm not a cougar either!"

"The men you were flirting with could've begged to differ." Diantha retorted in a Siebold-like fashion.

"Hah! Didi, are you seriously dissin' tha dick-game of DIS ragin' dragon? I think SOMEONE's jus' jealous she can't get as many dudes as Draaaas-na~" Malva accused after the song stopped.

"Hey! Let me tell you that when you have a shit-ton of psychotic, rampaging fans, it's hard to find a potential lover out of anyone! Clubs like that suck." She sighed. "And I love them all so dearly, but you know- that's what happens. And besides, who's to say I'm chasing dudes?"

Malva cocked her head to the side exaggeratedly, pondering the response (but slowly so with an inebriated brain). Soon the neurons fired, and she gasped. "Whaaaaat? Gurl, tha day I believe yur lesbian iz tha day when Spoink fly. Besides bouncin', but- ya kno." Siebold laughed, reminded of his similar remark towards Wikstrom.

"I don't have to be a lesbian to like girls, Malva! And why is it so unbelievable that I'm bi?"

Malva shrugged, which came out more like a wobbly shoulder wiggle. "I dunno, ya jus' look like you'd like boyz instead."

"Oh no. OH-HOHOHO, no!" The water-specializing elite began, shaking his head and a disapproving hand sassily, trying to draw attention to himself. The blond was most likely inebriated too, although in a moderate way, and not as severely as his fiery and fashionable friend.

Siebold paused for effect. The three women turned towards him expectantly, Malva staring through him into space. "...whut?" She asked, blinking.

"Looks- they don't mean anything. That guy in the driver's seat; he's pretty gay."

Everyone stared at the artistic chef in disbelief, minus the knight in question, who kept his eyes on the road but smiled slightly. Diantha was the first to speak up. "Wait...no way."

"Yea I didn't see it either. Usually I can pick that shit up easily with my gaydar, but with him- nah."

Malva shook her head. "A'ight, a'ight wait- Wikstrom, you're attestin' ta dis Trubbish?"

"'Tis not rubbish, but aye."

"Shit. And Siebold has a gaydar...does that mean he's gay too?"

"Honey, are you blind?"

"OK!" Suddenly Malva stood up in her chair, scaring the shit out of everyone and causing Wikstrom to momentarily lose control of the wheel. She hit the top of the car accidentally, prompting Drasna to growl "sit down!", and the other two younger elites to shake their heads at her. Falling down to her middle seat, she exclaimed "Okay, I knows now why dat club wus a bust, then!"

Diantha rolled her eyes. "Because I was being hounded by thousands of fans?"

"Because the music was hipstery electronic garbage?" Siebold pitched.

"Because we left?" Drasna added.

"NO, you pompous shitstains! Because we went to a STRAIGHT club!"

A quiet "oh" was mouthed by everyone in the car.

"So...are you suggesting we go to a gay club?" The actress asked.

Malva nodded, feeling incredibly proud of herself. "Definitely! Since 3/5ths of us fancy the same sex and I don't give a flaming fuck (as long as there's booze), why don't we head to one now?! I'm sure there are plenty in Lumiose! And when I get drunk enough I'll sure be in the mood for some Pyroar pussy~" she muttered sneakily.

Diantha shook her head, gagging slightly along with the rest of the gang. "Erm...Well that idea's fine and dandy but...what about Drasna? You okay with this?"

"Oh I'll be fine, dearie, as long as I can dance in good company."

The champion nodded and clapped. "Well as long as we're all in agreement, that sounds good! Malva, where to?" She asked.

"Wait, lemme look for a place nearby onna search engine...annnnd...okaay here's one dat looks nice! Iz pretty hidden tho, on tha top of a tall building, it'sa sayin'."

"Pulling out the GPS now, what's the address?"

She took a deep breath to say the address correctly and clearly. "546, Estival Avenue, Lumiose, Kalos, 42887."

"Okay...sweet, what's it called?"

"Cafe Risqué."

Siebold burst out laughing, and Diantha sighed. "Xerneas dammit, Malva."


	3. Chapter 3

A Gay Old Time!

Chapter 3: Friends and Foes

**A/N: Now that I think about it, given the nature of the song Dragon Slayer, it would make more sense if Lance played the role of Egoraptor/the Dragon. Thanks for reading my fic so far, and I hope you guys enjoy it! Reviews and such would be awesome, too.**

The bouncer shook his head, laughing to himself. "I've worked here for a while, and I've seen a lot of weird ass shit, but never in my life have I seen a drag queen with a toy sword."

There were so many slanderous quirks in that statement, and as such Wikstrom was absolutely seething. Just as he was about to rip his _100% real_ sword from its scabbard, Siebold stopped him. "Heh, yeah, it's super funny. Now do you really need our ID's or can't you just assume how old we are?"

The guy scoffed. "Sorry, I know you're famous and all but it's company policy. Also, admission fee is 4500 poke each."

"Awww...ladies don't go in free?" Malva asked, winking.

The bouncer just burst out laughing. Diantha brought out 22500 while everyone pulled out their IDs. "Wow, a rich woman acting poor? Arceus, make it two unbelievably fucking bizarre things in one night! That's one for the book!"

Malva was about to respond, but Diantha interrupted, shoving the money and her ID in his face. "Look, man, don't spoil our night. We're just trying to have a good time."

"Tch." He snatched the ID indignantly, scanning the birth date. "And how much of a good time do you think I'm having by standing in front of a door all night?" He grumbled, returning her ID.

"...Hmm. Touché." The actress retorted and shoved pass him. Once all five of them walked in, Malva cracked up. "HOLY SHIT, guys, he just called Wikstrom a drag queen oh my ARCEUS!" She slapped her knees, cackling audibly.

The steel knight sighed. "Aye, verily so." He pouted, and then raged once more. "Oh, that wretched knave, how my blade yearned to cleave the asinine imbe-"

Siebold stayed the older man's hand once more, which was reflexively reaching towards the sword's hilt again. "Hey, easy now, Wikstrom. He's an asshole; not worth your time. So just forget about him. And besides, we'd probably have to waste money bribing him- like the last time- if he assumed it was real."

The steel-specialist sighed deeply, still having a soft spot for the handsome young blond. "Very well...I suppose thou art correct."

"Ye, an' why do ya bring dat piece 'a junk around wit' ya anyways?" The drunken fire-training elite asked, checking out the club. It had a huge dance floor and bar downstairs, and a small upstairs lounge area where people mingled and also danced a bit if the mood was strong (or if they weren't enthralled by strippers).

"Sweet Arceus, lady, once I informed thee! Now mark: a sword-less knight may verily well not be a knight at all!"

"Heh. Still stupid."

"Well at least he doesn't have his armor on, Mal. Now let's go and have some fun!" Diantha announced, and after a bit of talking and dancing they eventually split up to mingle.

~~~

Malva never thought she'd be doing this, but she was here and drunk and all fired up by these BLAZING HOT JAMS! She took the girl's hand in hers and led her to dance with this quick-paced salsa music. And what a wonderful coincidence it was that both parties knew how to dance to this! Feet flew, hips swayed, and heads turned. All the girls in the club wanted to know how in Giratina's Distortion world a _pleb_ was dancing with someone so famous and so sexy as Kalos' beloved newscaster, Malva.

"You come here often?" The brunette asked, winking at the red-haired elite.

Malva shook her head, smile beaming, and spun the girl around excitedly. What she was doing was new, enticing, and fun; she didn't care if she were straight or not.

The two went on dancing wildly for quite a while, with Malva's partner occasionally stealing a few eager kisses. The elite definitely didn't give a damn, and probably kissed her back a few times, who knows? All she knew was she wanted a taste of that girl's cherry-flavored lip gloss.

But soon enough, the sound of cracking fists launched the two women out of their trance. The fire-type specialist turned her head to see a punk stud with puffy red hair. She wore only a bra, it seemed, and very baggy pants.

"Hey, kid." She said smoothly, calmly, cracking her neck side to side. "What the fuck are you doing in my club?"

Malva sized her up with an intimidating glare and acknowledged her aggressor with a fed-up, mocking expression that read 'are you kidding me?' "Gurl, I paid ta get in here, so why don'tcha jus' turn down tha fire an' get back to whateva you was doin'." She advised, trying to refrain from cursing lest she mar her national image.

"Hmph, you think you're something special, huh, Mal-va, monopolizing _my_ dance floor?" The newscaster's name slid along the punk woman's tongue jeeringly.

Something about this woman's nerve made the elite snap, and she lost her cool (which actually was not, as one could tell, hard to make an inebriated fire-type trainer do.) "HUH, funny, I didn't know BITCHES could use such enhanced vocabulary." She spoke deliberately so as not to sound like an idiot.

A couple of oohs went off from the men and women in their little audience, with one chick saying, "damn, Flannery, you gonna let her serve you like that?" The opposing gym leader blinked idly and lifted her chin to condescend. Unfazed, she retorted just as calmly. "You think you're tough, huh?"

"Hah, of course, I _am_ a member of the Elite Four, after all."

"Then you're on, you snide little shit! Meet me at the roof in ten. Don't fall down the stairs while you're at it, tool." Flannery challenged, and then made her way with a posse of girls to the stairwell. "We'll see who's the _real_ fire-type master after this!"

Malva was shocked; she couldn't believe that bitch would challenge her to a battle at a night club, of all places. Good thing she brought her team in her purse.

The brunette who danced with the elite patted her on the shoulder, noticing her confusion and shock. "Hey, don't sweat it, hun. Flannery's always out pickin' fights with people for no good reason."

Malva frowned. "Sure but...this is pretty much an attack on my _title_!"

The girl shrugged. "Well...you're an elite, she's a gym leader. I'm sure you can handle it...as long as you don't get any drunker than you already are."

~~~

A certain dragon-type master sat at a barstool, off to the side. On the first and second floors of the vast, neon-illuminated club, she watched all those happy club-goers talk, dance, kiss, and grind their hearts out, while she just sat aloof there, sipping wine. She could've sworn she saw Malva making out with some girl, and strippers pole-dancing in cages every now and then (male strippers. MALE strippers). But the latter...definitely wasn't her cup of tea.

Drasna sighed. She didn't know what she was doing when she agreed to attending a gay club with her coworkers. She just wanted them to be happy, seeing as she had greatly enjoyed herself at the previous club. She even snagged a few numbers!

But now, she felt incredibly awkward interacting with people much younger and more modern than her. And even those older were rather strange and quirky. She wasn't in any way shy, and had tried to mingle, but she couldn't find any way to connect with anyone! Some thought she was old and out of place, others were busy with talking or dancing with their own friends.

Sipping her final bit of liquid grape, Drasna asked the bartender for another. The charming guy laughed it off with her, trying to lighten her mood and convince her that a few women were checking her out. The elite smiled and told him that she was actually straight and just here with a few gay friends.

"Hey, me too!" Said an energetic voice from behind, hearing her story. A young, dark-skinned and purple, bushy haired girl plopped onto the stool besides Drasna. The bartender moved along to cater to another customer. "I just came here with one of my really cool gay friends. His name is Marlon. He didn't have any company so I thought 'why not?' and tagged along. We made a few new friends and danced a lot, it's been righteous!" She rambled off, sounding a lot like a youngster. Probably just turned 18, but who knows?

"Oh? Hello there." Drasna hummed a laugh. "And that sounds like a blast, dearie!" She said, endeared and lightened up by this cute, hyper young lady.

"Heh, yea, it really was. And what about you? What happened to your pals?" She asked, curious. Her hair rustled, but the dragon-loving elite passed it off as a drunken illusion (although she wasn't too inebriated).

"Oh, them? Erm...nothing really, we just parted ways and did our own thing." She shrugged, sipping her wine. Damn, her hair really was shaking though...

"Aww, that's lame. Oh well, you can hang out with me!"

Drasna smiled, warmed to the heart by this girl's kind offer. "Oh deary me, that sounds grand-!"

"AXEW!" Drasna almost fell off her chair with a gasp when the tiny, two-tusked dragon sprung out of that mess of purple hair. The girl caught her. "Whoa, there, are you okay? Jeez, sorry about my crazy little Pokémon! He can be such a kid sometimes. He just loves meeting new people!" She smiled when the small dragon jumped onto the counter and fiddled with Drasna's draconic jewelry. "Especially since you're wearing dragon fangs! Wow, that's some pretty snazzy bling you got there, girl!"

The elite laughed out loud at that. "Oh you like them? Thanks, dear. Most find them tacky."

"WHAAAT?! Tacky? No way, man, they're totally epic! I love dragons, you know?"

"As do I, erm...what was your name, again, dearie?"

"What? Oh, silly me, I guess I forgot to tell you! It's Iris." She said. Axew jumped onto Drasna's lap.

The elite was rather worldly, and recognized the Unova region's champion. "Oh, Iris is quite a nice name, dearie. Very esteemed. And I'm Drasna-."

Iris gasped upon hearing that name. "Whoa, really?! THE Drasna, dragon-type MASTER of the Kalos Elite Four?!"

"Um...yes, I suppose so, dear-"

"WOW, oh sweet Palkia and Dialga, really?! Oh jeez, sorry if I sound like a complete fangirl right know, but you're one of my inspirations! This is SO awesome!"

Drasna smiled, regaining her warm demeanor. "Oh, an inspiration for a champion? Really, sweetie? Wow, I'm very, very flattered!"

"No really, I admire your skill and the way you handle your Pokémon! I research it all the time! I don't think I'd be champion without you!"

Drasna's heart fluttered, and she put a hand to it. She couldn't believe her ears! To receive such praise from a champion, of all people, was astounding to her. "Awww, dearie, you don't know how overjoyed that makes me feel!"

"Oh, it's no problem; I'm glad! Hey, while I'm still in town, do you want to have a battle? Maybe tomorrow?" Iris asked with glowing eyes.

Drasna nodded. "Oh of course, of course, sweetheart! How fun would it be to have a match with a distant pupil?" She chuckled, and then remembered the appointment they had tomorrow. "But...probably after ten. Dragon versus dragon?"

"You betcha! I wanna see the cool dragon Pokémon of this region, and your prowess up close and in person. With every battle I have, I know I'll get stronger, and so will my amazing Pokémon!"

"Oh, that's no doubt, dearie, and you've got a match!..." As the new friends went over the arrangements for their future battle, and Iris ordered a soda as she intended, Axew returned to Iris's hair. The various club-goers continued to have their fun dancing and talking against the loud popular music set at ear-bursting volumes, as if the speakers were powered by Noiverns.

Suddenly, the purple-haired young woman grabbed a hold of Drasna's hand, and picked her up off the stool.

"Oh, what's this, dearie?" The older woman asked, trying to regain her footing on her spiked heels as Iris dragged her to the dance floor.

"Bringing you over here to have some fun instead of mope at the bar! We can dance as friends- and this song is perfect for a dragon dance!" She explained, giggling.

Now it was the dragon-training elite's turn to laugh. "Oh my, that sounds fabulous!" She said.

Once on the floor, Drasna was definitely not shy at all as the two danced the tribal, ritualistic dance dragons do in battle, firing up their spirits and increasing their swiftness. Drasna certainly looked the part too, decked out with her claws and fangs. And any spectators smiled and "aww'd" when they saw Axew jump down to dance enthusiastically with her trainer.

From the sidelines, Marlon and his new pals, Grant, Valerie and Viola, watched them in awe, cheering on their spirit and enthusiasm with the widest of grins. How can any gym leader leave such a strong connection with Pokémon unnoticed? It was, after all, the most important thing needed for a trainer's success. Unova chose their champion well, as did Kalos for their elite.


	4. Chapter 4

A Gay Old Time!

Chapter 4: The Art of Stalking

Stalking was usually never his thing, but when he saw HIS man (or...crush, rather) talking to another, he was reduced to commit such a foolish act. Every time the two rather tanned, darker-skinned males grew close to each other as they conversed, his jealousy flared, and a growl rose in his throat. They were just talking for now, but what were they talking about?! Xerneas-dammit, he needed to get closer.

Siebold sneaked around the masses of people, and climbed the staircase to get a better look at Grant and this mysterious, blue-haired surfer dude. With this obnoxious music in the way, there was no chance he'd be able to tune in on their conversation. So watching them ought to suffice for that moment.

After initially entering the club, he was minding his own business, mingling with some nice dudes who found him cute and wanted to talk or buy him a drink. But when he saw those familiar, jewel-encrusted dreads within the crowd, play time was over. The chef sprung to action, surprised that Grant would be here of all places, but he wasn't complaining. That is, of course, until he spotted Valerie with him, who had also accompanied his crush to the same restaurant his fellow elites had dined at.

The fairy and rock-type gym leaders' relationship had always been sketchy to the water-specializing elite. He once believed they were dating, yet upon growing more fond of the trendsetting cyclist, Siebold hoped to Arceus that they were only good friends. Valerie was so sweet, and he never wanted to think of her as some sort of opponent. But it was hard not to when he saw them laughing it up at the restaurant Le Yeah, where he worked a part-time shift to exercise his cooking hobby.

Nevertheless, seeing the fairy-loving fashion designer's lips attached to a certain bug-training photographer's was quite a gracious sight.

So Valerie and Grant were not an item. Just two really close friends (maybe gay buddies?). But what did that make Grant? Was he here because he was gay or here because he was tagging along with his gay pals?

And who was that undeniably handsome, well-built guy sitting next to him?!

"So...noticed...you tan..." Was all Siebold could catch Grant saying to the blue-haired man. The latter laughed, and probably said "thanks." Looks like it was just awkward conversation for now. Satisfied that nothing intense was going on between them, Siebold relinquished his stalker-hood to join the ranks of the regulars.

The brash blond, in no way shy or awkward, waltzed up to the couch Grant and his...new friend were lounging on (turns to the side so as not to see Valerie and Viola passionately making out). He sat besides the incredibly tanned swimmer and uttered a short greeting, "Salutations, fellows." worded in a way to sound more intellectual and therefore intimidating. He even glared nonchalantly at the swimmer for added effect.

Grant was sort of staring off into space. The blue-haired man smiled widely at the sight of the cook, uncrossing his legs and smoothly wrapping an arm around Siebold's smaller shoulders. The elite flinched, and a growl bubbled in his throat. 'What in the deepest, dankest pits of Terminus cave was this cancer-laden, Seel leather-skinned PLEB doing-'

"'Ey cutie~." His blue-eyed offender replied, breathing hotly into his ear. "How're you-"

"Oh hey, it's Siebold!" Grant exclaimed suddenly, then to his pal beside him. "Siebold is a member of Kalos' Elite Four. We hang." The swimmer gave a silent 'oh' of understanding. Grant continued to the blond. "I didn't know you go to...uh...these kinds of places."

The water-type trainer in question burst out laughing, and swept off the tanned guy's arm without regard for anything. "Oh of course I do, Grant, old pal! Gotta have my fun too. A little excitement here and there. It's those tentative, memorable moments of euphoria that really keep one going, you know?"

Grant shrugged and nodded warily. "Uh...yea I guess so."

The blond nodded as well. "Good...you seem confused."

The mountain climbing gym leader shook his head. "No I get it. Because people thrive off of memories as a hope and inspiration for their unpredictable futures, giving them the strength and endurance to take on any walls or obstacles which may hassle them in the long run. Memories are precious, and allow people to always keep a positive and confident mindset! Rather than tomorrow being a wildcard, it can possibly be as fun as or even better than the kiss you shared with your first love, or the day you got offered the job of gym leader." Even in the faint, neon lighting, Siebold noticed Grant shuddered in happiness at the latter statement, but at the former...nothing. Nothing but empty words.

For some reason, this delighted Siebold.

"Yes, I wholeheartedly agree." The cook breathed, stunned by Grant's fantastic interpretation. "And I'm...actually very glad you see it that way too, but I was actually referring to your friend over here."

Grant threw him a bewildered expression. "My friend...OH you mean Marlon, right?" He pointed to the blue-haired guy besides him. The gym leader referred turned to look at Grant, confusion plastering his face.

"Wha-...yo, you peeps are like...waaaay too serious alluva sudden."

"Whatever do you mean?" Siebold asked. 'Hopefully his lack of understanding will force this sea-birdbrain to leave.' (And especially to leave _his_ man alone.)

"Well, fo' starters, you guys think WAY too hard on things. Ya'll need to just go with the flow!" He began, gesturing profusely with waves and swings of his hands. "Ya can't just live in the past or future and expect things to get done! Ya gotta live in the present, and forget about all 'a that linear timeline malarkey! If ya live in the now, you'll have no reason to wanna repeat the past, or even predict your future. So in the end, ya won't need hope or confidence to get by. Just lots 'a trust in yo'self." Marlon concluded, certainty radiating on his face. He stretched his arms behind his head and crossed a leg over the other, looking as relaxed as a Snorlax blocking a bridge.

Grant sighed. "Well, I suppose you are correct, in some respects. You can't just live in the present either. You have to have some regard for future planning. If you lose a battle against a contending trainer, for instance, then wouldn't you plan out the next battle so as not to lose again? Wouldn't you want to better your strategy and anticipate any counterattacks or setbacks?"

"Nope!" Marlon replied without hesitation. Siebold laughed and rolled his eyes. By now Viola and Valeria were on the dance floor, asking Iris and Drasna to teach them their sweet moves.

Grant stared at him quizzically. "...Seriously?"

"Eeyup." Replied the water-specializing gym leader, stretching out his legs and wrapping his arms around the couch they were sitting at.

"...How the shit did you become Eighth gym leader of your region?" Grant's question settled unsettled as Marlon shot up out of nowhere.

"OH SHIT, this my JAM, bros!" He exclaimed, and went over to dance in the crowd. The song had changed to some new-age hip-hop, which Siebold didn't care for at all. He was more interested in the fact that he was all alone with his crush. He stared at the other man lovingly for a while, until realized what he was doing. "So...what brings you here?" The blond, fair-skinned man asked, pursing his lips idly as he sifted through his hair.

Grant shrugged. "I dunno. I was sorta dragged here by Val and her girl. I mean, I'm not arguing or anything. It's been pretty fun."

"Oh yea?"

"Yeah, man. We came here after we ate at this nice little restaurant for dinner." Siebold laughed to himself. It seemed Grant hadn't noticed he was stalking him at the restaurant, too. "But we've been dancing and talking for like...hours now, I think, and I'm sorta tuckered out, you know? Also, it's REALLY hard staying sober."

Siebold couldn't help but laugh at that. "Ha! You're the driver, then?"

"Yea. Unfortunately. I'm just sitting here drinking soda while the girls are drunk off love and booze." Grant mumbled, sighing.

Siebold pouted; the rock climber's melancholy was contagious. Regardless...was that a hint of loneliness the cheeky chef smelled? "Oh my, how unfortunate. I'm sorry Grant."

"Nah you're fine, don't worry about me. Go have fun."

"Oh, but I can't without you...having fun as well." He saved himself quickly. He mentally sighed in relief.

Grant chuckled. He fiddled with the jewels in his dreads, which he switched out for his typical hairstyle since he hadn't been in the mood to puff up his hair like a mountain. Too much blow-drying and gel. "Thanks, man. You're cool in my book." Siebold smiled at that. "But my feet aren't ready to keep up with these sick beats."

"That's fine. We can just sit here instead."

"And talk a little?"

"Of course."

"Cool." Grant replied, peering around the room pensively. "So...what brings you here?"

Siebold shrugged. "I dunno. I'm in the mood to have a good time, and so are my pals. So we came here. Plus, cute guys flirting with me is a nice bonus."

"Hehe...nice man. And your pals, you mean the other elites? I saw Drasna rockin' the floor earlier."

"Yea, I saw her too. Ha! She's a riot! I love my coworkers."

"Oh for sure. They sound super crazy after hours, man."

"Such is the nature of keeping a national image."

"Ohohoho, man, I feel ya. Sometimes it sucks just to go outside. Hard to be yourself when you have the 'razzi tailing you."

"I concur. How old would I sound if I said I feel so ready for retirement?"

"As old as I do when I say I wholeheartedly agree."

The two laughed loudly, enjoying their small talk. During their light conversations, Siebold subtly inched closer to Grant, shortening the gap between the two Pokémon-enthusiasts.

~~~

Just as the wily Siebold had taken an interest in stalking, so too had Wikstrom, who cared not for modern dance or music and thus took part in absolutely no clubbing whatsoever. (Kids nowadays…so obscene! Whatever happened to ballroom dancing and waltzing?)

Compared to Siebold, however, the steel-specializing elite was much more grieved. Downstairs, it seemed his beloved was interested more in the gym leader, Grant than anyone else. As evidenced by his fascination during their dinner, as evidenced by his fascination during the two younger men's current discussions. The blond was wholly enthralled by the rock-type trainer's features, charm, youth. As if he was a sculptor and Grant his elegant production of marble. And for good reason. Wikstrom sighed, fiddling with the sword's hilt. He was jealous of his...rival (oh how vain he felt at such a choice of words). _Why couldn't he have the chef's attention?_, He thought, leaning against the railing of the upstairs lounge in a rather aloof manner. What did he have that the younger man found unfavorable?

Footsteps and a brush of air intruded upon the knight's thoughts. A man with rusty-red spiked hair walked past him, brown cape flowing in the wind. He took a seat at a lounge chair, eyeing a cage where a stripper was pole dancing. Taking interest in the oddly dressed, unshaven older man, Wikstrom followed him. "Good eve', fellow." He greeted genially, taking a seat in the chair beside him.

"GWAHAHA...ah...you talk funny."

"Art thou inebriated?" Wikstrom asked, casting a puzzled expression towards the red-haired man.

"Nah. This hole ain't got no good whiskey. Just cheap shit. I'm not gay, by the way." He asked, giving the knight a sidelong look.

"Eager are thy defenses."

"What? Oh no, I just thought you were going to make some moves on me if I were drunk. Wouldn't want that shit happening. And can't you see the wedding ring on my finger?" He growled, raising his right hand.

"So 'tis. Then...on what intent dost thou gaze upon the caged man's supple form?"

"The who?" He asked confusedly, then looked back over to the young stripper. "OH fuck, what? GWAHAHAHAHAHA, what in the name of Arceus are you talking about? What, do you think my own _son_ would harden my steel or some shit?"

Wikstrom laughed at his clever innuendo, having not immediately caught what the older man had actually said (and that he had slighted him in addition). "Oh...oh dear Xerneas, my sincerest apologies, good sir! I was late to realize..."

"Man, we have the same color hair. Who else has this color?"

"...Any fellow who dyes it, I suppose."

The man huffed and then grinned in agreement. "Touché. What's your name, guy?"

"Sir Wikstrom."

"Ooooh fancy. A title? That's way too classy for my lowly self."

"Wait...'twas not mine intention to denounce thee as a peasant-"

"No, Wik! It's 'cause I'm a miner! GUHAHAHA...lighten up, man."

Wikstrom sighed. "Mine apologies, again, but that I cannot. My thoughts weigh heavier than the steel-typed Pokémon I train-"

"What's that? You train steel types?! Incredible, so do I!"

"Verily so? Aye, they are indeed a joy. And if I may so inquire, what is thy name, old chap?"

"Huh? Oh damn, guess I forgot to tell ya. It's Byron."

"Pleasure to make thine acquaintance, Byron. Art thou lingering in this modern ballroom of sorts to ensure thy son's safety?"

"Yea. Well...yes and no. I just wanted to see why he likes it here so much. Comes every other weekend. He said it's because 'the energy of the place and taboo of the job inspire him and separate him from the monotony of mining' or whatever. But all I see is men ogling him and trying to grab at his ass." He shrugged. "I dunno. I mean, I don't care if my son is gay or whatever, but it does tick me off that he'll go this far just to get attention. And damn, Kalos is quite a ways from Sinnoh." He grumbled. "But that's beside the point."

"Hmm...mayhap attention is not what he seeks."

"Well, what else could it be?"

"Might he wish to court a man?"

"Hmph. If he were trying to court A MAN, then he wouldn't be up there trying to court MEN."

Wikstrom sighed, shaking his head. Perhaps this was the reason for is lack of interest in having children. He laughed at the thought.

Byron continued. "Hmmm...maybe if I set him up with a man he'll stop all this nonsense."

"...Perhaps. Au contraire, the desires of an adult are granted their own free reign. Doth his passion verily pester thee so?"

"Well, mildly. But it does piss my wife off a lot. And even though I really like to tease her about it (shit, I even filmed him dancing over there to show her, guhahahah) hearing her bitch like a Mightyena is getting old, now, you know? ...How old are you?"

Wikstrom was taken aback by the random question. "Erm...thirty-eight. Why-?"

"Really? Shit, you look older, but I ain't complainin'. You seem like a nice, dignified gentleman. Wanna date my son?"

"I-I do beg thy pardon?! My apologies, thrice, Byron, but is that not his own choice? Besides, have I only eyes for another..."

"Aw, forget about that other guy, then, Wik! My son's a really nice kid. Super enthusiastic, a real go-getter. C'mon, give him a try!"

The steel-training elite pondered the offer, studying Byron's son attentively. The thin yet built young man was rather attractive, and the way he moved was simply mystifying. He brushed up against the pole with hooded eyes and slightly parted lips; a marvelous sight to see. Then randomly and in one fluid motion, the stripper pushed himself off the pole and spun over to the bars of the cage, where some men frantically tried to touch him. But he pushed those sordid hands away, his sole intent to snatch a Pecha berry from a lecherous viewer. Their lips moved in desperate shouts as they tried to talk over the roaring music. Finally hearing the man's request, however, the dusty red-haired young man gently placed the berry on his soft lips and sucked on it suggestively, earning a laugh and a clap from the viewer. Then with a naughty wink, he bit into the berry's pink flesh, letting the juices trickle down to his bare, white chest. The crowd went wild, and with a show like that, Wikstrom, wholly enthralled, couldn't blame them. The knight himself couldn't help but to imagine the stripper dancing on his lap, ghosting his fingers along his rigid jaw, loosening them up for a kiss...

"Gwahaha! I'll take that boner as a yes."


	5. Chapter 5

A Gay Old Time!

Chapter 5: Siebold May Be Bold, but He's Boulder

**A/N: AHH I'm so surprised yet psyched about the positive feedback I'm getting for this story! I really love that you guys love and enjoy my work, so thanks so much! And thanks to those of you who've reviewed!**

**Also, could you guys review more, please? I mean, I don't even care if you don't want to favorite me or the story or anything, but I would really appreciate it if you reviewed. Maybe review on stuff like my writing style, how much my story captures your attention, or if you like the turn my story's plot is taking at any given moment. Anything really, I'll take reviews if they're positive or critical (but flames are mean, yo)!**

Ascending two (maybe three) flights of stairs was incredibly hard, especially when it was past midnight and one was shit-faced drunk. The girl with whom Malva danced helped her up the stairs, having not really drunk anything intoxicating. "Jeez, honey. How can you be so super serious on the Holo Caster, but now you're just a MESS?!"

Malva chortled. "It's my night out, you can't really 'spect me ta give a shit." She giggled again. "Hehe...am I a hot mess?"

"Hot enough for me to grab your ass while ya ain't lookin'."

"You sly little buizel."

"Hey! It's my reward for helping you up the stairs. Plus, it keeps you from falling backwards."

"Heh. Can't argue wit' dat lawgic." The newscaster announced, taking a swig of a bottle of booze she bought off the lounge bartender.

"Arceus-damn, Malva, can you get any drunker?"

"Prob'ly. But las' time I tried, I woke up half-naked inna bathtub."

"Huh. Fun night."

"Fuck yea-uhhhh! Care ta join meh sumtime-whoa, shit!" Malva wobbled on a stair. The girl laughed and caught her (ass).

"Sure, hun. But with me, it'll be a funner night."

"Honest ta Arceus?"

"Arceus, Xerneas, and Mew."

"Then itsa deal!" Malva exclaimed, springing to action. She hopped over the rest of the stairs in that flight and took the brunette with her, swinging her around. "Hey, what in the...?!" Was all Malva's lady of the evening could say before she was slammed against the wall by the elite herself. The fire-type enthusiast crept up to her with the most devilish smirk planted onto her face. "So...why dun we start our fun lil' night now?" She asked, her scandalous fingers beginning to unbutton the woman's jacket.

The other woman chuckled. "Because you have a battle to attend to."

Malva's eyes widened in surprise, looking up from her acquaintance's cleavage and hitting an obnoxious twirl of brown hair. "Oh shit, yur right, damn!...where wuz it again?"

"Roof, through that door right next to us." The brunette said with a grin, mildly amused by the fire trainer's behavior.

"'Kay~!" Malva chirped. At half-skip, another thought came to her mind. "...Yanno, I neva got cha name."

"Oh, you know me. If not, then by tomorrow you will know me. Don't worry about it. You're too drunk to remember."

"...A'ight, ye, sounds about right!" She grabbed the door handle and yanked it open with brute, drunken force. "C'mon 'nd join me, gurl! You'll prob'ly be my only cheerleader."

The other woman laughed. "Oh don't worry about that, sweetie. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

~~~

Diantha couldn't take this anymore. Although she dressed so inconspicuously tonight, she couldn't believe the sheer number of autographs she still had to sign and questions she still had to answer from all these people. Damn her kind-natured self, who was rendered unable to turn down any request once it was asked. Especially when it came from a nice fan!

She sighed, sitting down in an abandoned corner of the club. Thank Xerneas she was finally able to snag some alone time. It was too bad she couldn't enjoy anything, really. Fans hounded her like police Arcanines wherever she went. This club was no different, especially given the myriad of young people present. She took a sip of her Cheri cocktail. At times like these, she would wish she weren't famous, and was just another person, just another trainer. However, the whimsy and joy that came from being an actress and bringing entertainment to the people was a wonderful gift of life the champion could never relinquish. As such, she tossed those thoughts to the wind. She could endure the fanfare.

Thus, she made the most out of her night by simply relishing in her surroundings. Watching people argue and laugh, dance and sing, kiss and...whatever the fuck those strippers were doing, was quite enjoyable. The music, the passion, the energy- everything here illuminated the otherwise quiet night and boosted her depressed spirits. She giggled with glee at the sight of Drasna dragon dancing with Unova's champion and her Axew. Rolled her eyes at Siebold flirting with the gym leader he's been ogling all night. Laughed at Malva getting into a heated quarrel with a tough stud. And now her eyes wandered over to the pleasant sight of...WIKSTROM GETTING A LAP DANCE?!

Diantha spit out her cocktail as dramatically as any actress would. Her mouth ran dry and her eyes widened in some odd twist of surprise and disgust. What a chivalrous knight, _indeed_! She just _had_ to text this to Augustine!

When that was done, she laughed halfheartedly, trying to toss the strange image out of her mind. She glanced at her beverage, then back up at the scene. Wikstrom was no longer there. Sweet Arceus...she hoped it was just the Cheri berries.

~~~

"So...um...you're gay, huh?" Grant asked, and rather loudly so since the background music kept encroaching into the foreground.

Siebold nodded. "Yea. What about you?" Finally! He was glad the question could flow so smoothly. In any other case, it most likely would've seemed very abrupt and desperate.

Grant tossed his head side to side in deliberation. "Um...I like guys, yea." He said, turning his head away from his friend. Siebold took a quick look at him. His cheeks seemed to burn. The vibrant lights flashing in the dark betrayed an oily bead of sweat on his skin.

"Do you want to...er...do you like anyone in particular?" Xerneas-dammit, he couldn't do this. Why was asking people out so hard?!

"Well...yes, actually." Grant still wouldn't look directly at him.

The chef smiled and hummed. "Embarrassed to say?"

"Don't try to get an answer out of me." He mumbled, giving him a sidelong glare.

"Aw, don't be shy, Grant. Give me a hint."

"Can't trust you. I'm putting up my rock walls." He raised his hand as if to do so.

"C'mon, please? What does he-or she- look like?"

"He's..." One step closer! "Cute." Dammit. Too vague.

"Well of course, that's why you like him."

The rock climber glared at Siebold, as if studying him. "You're still on the ground."

"I'm...what?"

He turned away from the elite, eyes attracted to another object. He softly took a deep breath. "You're not getting anywhere up this wall."

Siebold laughed. "Oh, we're playing this game, huh?"

Grant rolled his eyes. "Tch. Call it what you want."

"Can I batter it with a wave? That's super-effective." The water-type specialist joked.

Grant nodded. "Yes, it is for sure. Now give me a wave."

"Ugh...what, can't I just say I did?"

"Nah. Give me one good reason to give you one good hint."

"I'm...your friend."

"One stray tide tickles the face."

"Awww, c'mon Grant what do I have to say to make you tell me?"

"Think out of the shell. Use your head."

"...What is up with people and puns tonight?"

"Wasted words are minutes wasted for better actions."

"Ok, alright! Geez, pushy!" Siebold reclined into the couch, resting one leg over the other. "Welllll...I might be your BEST friend? Maybe."

"Why?"

"I'm really dedicated to you."

"Are you now?" It was Grant's turn to chuckle.

"Yes! I know a lot about you, I think. You're childhood friends with Valerie, you diet way too much for your own good, you secretly like sweets, you love tiny rock dinosaurs and other ancient life, you excel in rock climbing and cycling, you value determination and hope over mere power-"

"Alright, hey wait! I don't secretly like sweets! They're...bad for you, man." Thus, the return of that cute blush.

Siebold chuckled. "Sure, sure. As if I don't catch you sneaking some of Valerie's desserts at the Lè Yeah...oh look, the wall seems to be fracturing!"

Grant pouted, folding his arms. "Man, you're such a stalker!"

"Ha! And a good one at that! I've been stalking you all night at dinner and here and you never even noti- wait, fuck, I mean-"

"Welp, seems the truth has been revealed."

"Son of a Houndoom!"

"I knew it, man. I thought I saw you earlier at the restaurant and I totally remember seeing you prowling around the club."

"Rattatas. You clever little thing, how'd you even get me to admit that?" Siebold grumbled, accepting defeat.

"By manipulating your heightened sense of pride and bringing down your guard."

"Ah. Your wiles know no bounds, Grant. That was almost artful."

"Why 'almost'? Tactics can be very artful."

Siebold took that into consideration. Tactics? He never stopped to think that all trades and things could be artistically performed, even if their connotations or uses are mundane and common. But then again, he was a cook after all. "I do believe you're right, then."

"Really?" Grant looked at him as if he had just been shocked by a Helioptile.

"Yes. Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Because you hardly ever admit you're wrong to anyone."

"What? I do!"

"Name one time, besides just now."

"Um...well. Shit." He hissed to himself, thinking hard for a while. Then he suggested. "Well...if I say my previous statement was wrong, will that count?"

"Nope. Hey, you know what?"

"What?"

"Can we just say what we're both thinking?"

"...What?"

The cyclist sighed and playfully smacked Siebold on the shoulder. "Don't act so oblivious."

The blond chuckled. "What do you mean? About who your crush is?"

Grant nodded timidly, the heat returning to his face. The water-training elite could feel it, being that he was so close. "Yea." He said, and the elite noticed how the gym leader steeled himself quickly after.

"Well, I know whom I want him to be, but I don't know who he actually is. Can I get a few hints now? Ha ha...good ones?"

Grant nodded, taking a deep breath and rubbing the sweat off his neck. "Sure. He's blond, hipstery, cool, has beautiful blue eyes," Siebold's grin grew twice its size. Of course that was him! But the darker-skinned man's tone was growing...more confident and caustic as he listed. "...very close-minded, shallow, stubborn, arrogant...hey, you know what?"

Siebold frowned heavily, dreading the gravity of the rejection which would soon befall him. And he hadn't even asked Grant to date him yet! "W-what?" He held his breath.

"...I don't think Volkner is the right guy for me." He said impassively.

Siebold almost exhaled a huge sigh of relief, but managed to keep it minimal. Instead he laughed with a slight hint of nervousness, and sympathized. "Damn, I'm sorry, Grant. That's a shame."

Grant frowned and sighed out all the breath in his lungs. "Yeah? Well so is the fact that I was actually talking about you." With that, the athlete finally and literally took a stand and walked off. Siebold, wide-eyed and much too shocked at the man's bluntness to even cry, dashed after him.

"Wait! What the fuck, Grant, what did I do to make you think that way about me?!" But by then his long-time crush was gone, swallowed up by the jaws of the crowd. Desperate, Siebold fumbled through the throng of club-goers, calling Grant's name, trying to figure out to where the man might've fled. To his friends, the bar, the bathroom, each and every secluded corner of the club. Diantha even gave him a confused look and asked what was wrong from where she was sitting and texting, but he disregarded her and persisted in hounding the rock-specializing gym leader. Unfortunately for him, his beloved was nowhere to be found.

Dejected and heartbroken, Siebold ambled over to the bar. He demanded with a tired, beaten voice for the strongest vodka they possibly had, and drank until he couldn't feel anymore. Yet tears still trickled down his pale cheeks, as an overflowing cavern waterfall is vomited out of a mountain's face.


	6. Chapter 6

A Gay Old Time!

Chapter 6: Ends and Beginnings

"Hey big guy, don't you wanna lick the Pecha juice off my chest?" Asked the younger man, whom Byron had named Roark. The rock-training miner spoke awkwardly, as if saying such words in such a way were novel to him. Nevertheless, those fingers creeping up Wikstrom's shirt were fortunately experienced, providing the older man with a tingling sensation upon each deliberate tap of Roark's fingers. Wikstrom's voice ran dry in his throat and plunged to the deepest, mucky depths of his stomach.

Nevertheless, the red-haired young man proceeded, caressing Wikstrom's abs teasingly. "Damn, you're a real beefcake. Daddy picked a good one~." Roark pushed him onto a toilet seat and climbed on top of the knight, straddling his hips. His fingers slowly but surely made their way up to Wikstrom's chest. The young gym leader rubbed a nipple hard, then sucked on it through the older man's shirt. Wikstrom shuddered. He could barely contain the moan rising in his throat, biting his lower lip to keep it in. His cheeks flared.

"Oh come on, don't be a killjoy. I could've sworn my dad said you wanted to give me a try."

Wikstrom swallowed and regained use of his voice. "A...a 'try,' aye, is a try." He said, almost babbling. "Yet, thou art too quick…r-rushing past the rituals…thus I cannot f-follow...aah..." Wikstrom moaned as Roark kissed and sucked on his muscular neck.

"Oh please, I gave you plenty of time to compose yourself." The stripper said. "You're so hot. I don't know why you're acting like this." Roark grumbled.

After Byron asked Wikstrom to date his son, and the steel-training elite warily agreed (figuring Siebold wasn't interested in him anyways), the gym leader ran off elsewhere, saying he'd tell his son of this. A few minutes later, he noticed that the red-haired stripper had left his cage, presumably because his shift was over. He was replaced by a woman, who attracted some of the women and bisexual men of the club. Assuming the man's charming son had left for good, the knight was left to his own devices (pacing around the club and fiddling with his sword, scanning the area for his friends, perhaps. Where did those scallywags run off to?). Suddenly, a smaller figure assaulted him, pushing him onto a chair. Before Wikstrom could even have the time to gasp out a cry of distress or confusion, Roark's lips seized his own, and his tongue worked its way into the elite's open mouth. After what seemed like a blissful yet awkward eternity of heated French kissing, the younger man yanked his lips off of Wikstrom's. "Sorry, I get really horny after dancing." Was Roark's excuse while he caressed all the sensitive parts of the older man's body. When the younger tried to kiss him again, the chivalrous knight shakily excused himself to the bathroom, stuttering that Roark was hardly his acquaintance, let alone someone who could take advantage of him like that. Yet here he was in the bathroom, limbs rendered to a placid jelly by the very man.

"M-mayhap 'tis d-due to thine advances." Wikstrom took a deep breath, trying to summon up the thunder in his voice. "Thou must not meddle in such a capricious manner with men whom thou scarcely knowst." The door to the bathroom opened, but they disregarded it and the pissing in the background over the heat of their feud.

"Stop role playing, dude! And I thought you wanted this!"

"Ass!" Wikstrom growled. "My role of knight is not merely a role." Now that Roark's guard was down, he lifted the guy off his lap and rose from the toilet seat. "'Tis an appointment, a bestowal, a promise. Hark now, lad. Thy father requested me to be thy suitor, not for thee to be my whore." He shuddered at the thought, being a gentlemen who despises prostitution.

"...What? Oh, no I'm not a whore. Sorry, man. I know he wants you to date me, I just thought you'd want to go further. I mean, we're adults, right?" The miner leaned against the railing, looking him over with his dull red eyes.

"Verily so, yet even then..." He sighed, and turned away, blushing. "I am still...chaste; a virgin. I am not accustomed to-"

"WHOA WAIT SERIOUSLY, DUDE?! I thought you were like, thirty or something!"

"...Aye?"

"So why are you...alright man you need to get laid as soon as possible, that shit feels amazing." The red-haired man grabbed Wikstrom's hand, dragging him out of the stall. Before the elite could retaliate, Roark added. "And don't give me any arguments about your knight's honor preventing you from doing the do or anything."

"I b-beg thy pardon? What is this 'do' of which thou speakest?"

"Heh. Don't worry about it." Byron's son pushed the knight against the wall. He wrapped his arms around Wikstrom's waist, getting very close to him. "Just come with me so we can have a good time, sweetie." Roark whispered into the brown-haired man's ear and fiddled with his sheathed sword's hilt. "And let me play with your OTHER sword~."

Wikstrom blushed furiously, so very tempted to accept the younger man's offer. The knight was so heavily enthralled, that he hadn't even noticed the curious eyes of the bystander or the wind said man parted as he furiously sped out of the bathroom.

~~~

"A'ight, JACK-NUMELS, the QUEEN has arrived~!" Malva announced in that booming, sing-song voice which her profession made her very used to. She could hear the brunette behind her facepalm, but it was drowned out by the applause of their roof-top audience. Maybe she would have more support in this battle after all.

With a haughty wave of her hand, Flannery silenced them. "Oi', Team Flare _bitch_. You don't rule here. This is MY club."

A few confused looks shot towards the elite. Malva frowned. How the hell did she...? "Team Flare's a thing a tha past, an' I neva cared for 'em." She lied. "An' how tha fuck do _you _own dis club, gurl? You from Hoenn!"

"You think I give a flaming fuck?" Malva laughed at that. "At least I didn't take forever to get here. Now listen up, two-cent bitch. Korrina over there is gonna be our referee." The skater girl waved her hand, smiling with a bright overbite. "And this game goes by normal rules. Six Pokémon each at level 50, no handicaps. And it's a single battle too. Got it?"

"Uh...sure." Damn, Flannery was serious, treating this like a tournament. "But how are our Pokémon gunna be dropped ta level fiddy?"

"Ask Korrina, I don't frickin' know. Sweet Arceus you sound so drunk. This is going to be easy." The gym leader mumbled to herself.

Ignoring her, Malva turned to the blonde quizzically. She rolled her eyes. "I have the technology. Don't worry about it." She skated over to the middle of the battlefield and dropped a metal ball on the floor. It opened up on three legs like a mini tripod and shot out beams of light in a grid to create a field. A piercing whistle from the referee launched Malva from her fascination. "Alright guys, let's get this battle star- wait a second."

Flannery, left in an awkward stance where she was just about to throw her pokeball, almost stumbled when she paused. Malva fumbled through her purse for her pokeballs. "Arceus-dammit...what's up, Korrina?" The fire-training gym leader asked.

"Do any of you guys have Pokémon that can mega evolve?"

Both women shook their heads. Or...Malva thought about it. Didn't she? She was sure it wasn't with her...maybe it was in her PC.

"Darn, I wanted to spice things up. Okay, you can start."

As things were set back into action, the crowd gasped and applauded as Flannery sent out her first Pokémon, her signature Torkoal. It seemed to smile sluggishly with all the fanfare, showing off by emitting sparkling, powdery white smoke from its nostrils and shell. Almost spastically, Malva sent out one of her Pokémon at random from her purse, having not been prepared for battle with the capsules at her hip. Regardless, she had a good laugh at exactly what she had sent out.

"Fucking copycat..." Flannery grumbled from the other side of the field. The punk gym leader slowly shook her head at Malva's almost identical, black-backed tortoise. A couple onlookers chuckled.

Malva's obnoxious, drunken laughter seemed to boom throughout the whole city. "Ohhoh sweet fuckin' Xerneas, dis shit is rich 'a black diamonds! Dis first turn is gonna take hours!"

"We'll see about that, figurehead! Torkoal, use stone edge!-"

Malva waved her hand. "Earthquake." And the ground shook so violently, that their audience had to hold on to railings, the floor, and each other. The whole building itself seemed to take the stress of the attack, creaking and crumbling. Flannery's Torkoal endured the brunt of the super-effective move, and toppled to the floor. But it wasn't down yet.

"Gah, not fair! You can use that from anywhere!" Flannery growled, dismayed as her foe's Pokémon retreated into its shell and spun around to dodge the weak stone spires. Luckily for the elite's fighter, the stone edge lost most of its power when its user lost focus. "ARGG...what gives?!"

"Welp." Malva clucked her tongue. "This is a battle, aaaand I wanted to see your boobs jiggle."

"Damn, you're a real piece of work, Malva. Torkoal, hang in there! Get close!" Her Pokémon puffed smoke in acknowledgement, withdrawing into its shell and quickly kicking forward to slide over to its opponent.

"…What tha shit?" Malva quirked a brow.

"Yawn!"

The gym leader's Torkoal exhaled a smoky yawn in the other's face. Malva snorted and commanded her Pokémon to hit the other with a stone edge. It caught Flannery's tired Torkoal off guard, knocking it out. "Aaaaand Flannery's Torkoal is knocked the fuck out!" Korrina hollered, earning a few chuckles and claps throughout the crowd. "Next up!" The gym leader returned the tortoise with an irritated grumble.

"Ha! What wus dat, Flannery? Are ya already tired 'a dis battle?"

"No, but I'm tired of your Tauros shit! Camerupt, bring on the heat!" She tossed her next pokeball onto the field, releasing the volcanic camel. It assumed an intimidating stance, huffing flames and smoke from its nostrils and humps. "Now, Camerupt, use Earth Power!"

"Shit, Torkoal- earthquake, again!" Malva cried out, but the ground already erupted and collapsed under the ashy turtle's feet, swallowing him halfway under. The slightly sleepy Torkoal instantly fainted, although at full health. "And Torkoal number two is DOWN for the count!" Their blonde referee cheerily announced.

The elite comically lifted the glasses off her face in mock surprise, fluttering her eyelashes. "Damn, brutal! Ya really got sum fire in ya, huh Flanny?"

"Honest to Heatran, I do! The ovens are fired up, so if you can't take the heat, get out of my damn kitchen!"

Some members in the crowd groaned at the horrible punnery between the two, but the contenders themselves paid no heed. They were too busy chuckling with wide grins. Malva didn't even seem to be butt-hurt in the slightest. It almost made Flannery rethink her sentiments on how conceited and vain the fire-specializing elite would be, but then again, the woman was drunk.

The spiky-haired gym leader was launched out of her thoughts, however, when her foe sent out her next Pokémon. She burst out laughing and bent down to slap her knee. "AHAHAHA, Arceus, Malva, you are dense as volcanic rock!

"Fuck..." Malva whispered, slightly mortified. She stared in shock at the fiery falcon she just released. "Damnit, where's Pyroar?" She grumbled to herself, grabbing the rest of her pokeballs in one hand and studying them. She could've sworn that was Pyroar's pokeball!

She sighed, and put the capsules in her pocket. Oh well, she would have to deal with birdbrain here for now.

"Jeez, you're as slow as a magma flow! Get your head in the game, bitch, because I'm about to hit you with a rock slide!"

"Not...erm...if I counter wit' a brave bird!" Malva barked, yet the command was delayed due to her inebriation; Camerupt was already tossing rocks at the Talonflame. To avoid its opponents' attacks, however, the speedy bird tucked in its wings and aimed for the camel's weak spot- it's neck- on the fly. A couple of rocks slammed into Malva's Pokemon, but they did nothing to faze the valiant bird's kamikaze death-launch.

The falcon released a sharp, piercing battle shriek upon collision, adding to the explosive effect of the attack itself. The onlookers were forced to cover their ears. Yet still they cheered and clapped at the intense display after the fact.

And intense it was, as Malva's Talonflame felt her skull crack beneath the skin upon impact with the thick-pelted camel. It was a full-fledged, maximum velocity headbutt with just about enough recoil damage to bruise the mighty skin of Arceus itself. The flaming bird plunged down to the roof, twirling about wildly with the stars it saw as Flannery's Camerupt tipped over like a Tauros. Their trainers' desperate requests for the Pokémon to rise and fight again had the audience holding their breath. Korrina was about to call for a draw, when Camerupt's volcanic humps suddenly ignited and the camel rose to its hooves. It huffed plumes of flame and voiced an enthusiastic battle cry.

"Ha! Looks like your bird killed itself, Malva." Flannery taunted. "Tch, weakling. Didn't even have to do anything."

"Man, no, it wuz uhh..jus' recoil damage! Ye, Talonflame is jus' takin' a nap!"

"No naps on the battle field." Korrina impassively butted in. Camerupt dragged its hooves along the rooftop impatiently, snorting smoke.

Malva sighed, crossing her arms. "Fine. Talonflame use a move or somethin'."

The bird twitched. Behind her, Malva's brunette friend gave her a perplexed look, as did most of the audience. Malva sighed. "Seriously, do whateva'. Jus' don't fail meh, now."

The bird rose to action, raucously flapping its wings and talons about. The shrieks which accompanied the move were almost comical, and a couple ladies and guys giggled. Before Flannery could say a move, her Camerupt was assaulted by a flurry of orange wings and black talons. It couldn't withstand the frantic attack, and fell to its knees once more. This time, however, Camerupt was surely knocked out, as Korrina declared without hesitation.

Flannery's eyes widened in shock. She returned her Pokémon to its ball. How could the half-fainted bird have suddenly gone berserk in a heartbeat?! "What the fuck, you didn't even give me time to retaliate!"

Talonflame fell to the floor, breathing deeply. "Like I sed," Malva began, with an arrogant tone to her reiteration. "This IS a battle, 'n I wanted ta see ya flip yo shit."

Flannery was fuming. How could her opponent be so in the lead when she was unbelievably drunk and cocky enough to summon all the karma in the universe? It can't JUST be because she's an elite!

…Could it?

"Hey," a voice in the background called out, drawing the combatants to attention. "What...move did Talonflame use? And how in the world did it know to use it?"

Malva shrugged, and Flannery shook her head in disbelief at her current situation.

"It probably heard 'flail' when Malva said 'don't fail me'." Speculated Malva's dancing partner.

"...Oh. Thanks, 'Lex."

"No problem."

"Well okay, now that that's settled- send out your next challenger, Flan, before Talonflame keels over from exhaustion." Korrina requested. The bird referred was struggling to rise up again, let alone fly into the air again. Malva just stared into space, and into the twinkling night sky.

"Oh, it's gonna keel over, inevitably. Go, Magcargo!" She flung the pokeball, then commanded. "Use ancient power!"

"Wait, fuck, I'm not ready!" Malva exclaimed. "Uhhh...flail again, quickly!"

The falcon was able to get a few good hits into the slug's burning body. Yet soon enough, those ancient, floating rocks rammed into it like meteors on an unsuspecting planet. The bird fainted instantly, and those fans of Flannery clapped for her. Korrina laughed. "Ha! I don't think there's any doubt that Talonflame is out like a candlelight."

Malva laughed at the pun, but on the inside, she was distressed. True, Pokémon battling was an activity that could be done at her leisure for her, given she was a Pokémon master. Whether blindfolded or inebriated, the Holo Newscaster could pump out flawless combinations to lay low her foes. However, in the deepest, most concealed areas of her intoxicated mind, she felt some sort of worry for the status of this battle. They both had two fainted Pokémon and although the elite was in the lead, her opponent could easily turn the tables on her with a good type matchup or lucky attack. And honestly, hadn't all of her attacks been performed out of sheer luck so far?

Malva looked down to the floor, holding in her dismay. She returned her Talonflame. If she was going to win this battle, as she should to defend her title, she was going to have to pull some major strings.

So she brought out her next pokeball and threw it onto the battlefield.


End file.
